


In Our Dreams

by Laryna6



Series: Noblesse Works [5]
Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Dream Sex, Flashback Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laryna6/pseuds/Laryna6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankenstein was truly grateful to be offered a place to rest until he recovered, but it was more than that. Cadis Etrama di Raizel had handed him not just a means of investigating the clan leaders, but somewhere safe to sleep in the land of the nobles. Perchance to dream of his host.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Our Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nerdanel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdanel/gifts).



> You know how I've mentioned a few places that for awhile now every time I try to write actual smut I fail?

Frankenstein was forced to master lucid dreaming a long time before acquiring Dark Spear, thank goodness. Movement in a dream might not cause his sleeping body to move, but he could gather the energy of his aura in a dream and the attack would be sent out in real life. Waking to one collapsed wall was one too many. The enhancements to his mental defenses had also given him more ability to control his subconscious than most people possessed. Using his ability to control his dreams for... recreational purposes kept him in practice, which made it easier when Dark Spear tried to seize control over one of his nightmares.

So when he found Cadis Etrama di Raizel looming over his bed in a dream, his response was to smile in satisfaction, pull the noble down into the bed and reverse their positions.

He’d expected this, honestly.

Purely aesthetically, Gejutel wasn’t unappealing. Quite a bit of muscle under there, certainly, but he resembled an older man. For Frankenstein, seeing a human age was a reminder of his failure. They would keep aging, keep dying, until he could destroy the noble criminals and others behind that conspiracy and spread his enhancements.

Ragar seemed to be an earnest, relatively-young noble, and the question he’d asked, the one that reminded Frankenstein of why he needed to resist Dark Spear’s control… Yes, Frankenstein _did_ have a few things he’d like to show Ragar. He wouldn’t be surprised if that noble turned up in one of these dreams eventually.

Yet sheer proximity, and thus number of memories percolating in his brain for the dream to work with, made Cadis Etrama di Raizel the most likely to appear, he thought, unbuttoning the noble’s white shirt to reveal a quite human chest. That was only natural when he was a doctor and this was his dream: his own mind would supply the anatomy. Who knew what Cadis Etrama di Raizel really looked like under those clothes, but for now he had a dream version to unwrap.

Hmm, he thought, nosing at an ear. He’d expected a little more resistance to changing the course of events in this dream. Obviously this dream had started out as a nightmare, with the noble coming into his room in the middle of the night. Born of his fears that his host would betray him, that he had saved Frankenstein from the clan leaders and the Lord only to have the human genius and his inventions to himself. For all he knew, Cadis Etrama di Raizel was one of the ringleaders behind the conspiracy, and it was the wealth extracted from humans that gave him the power to send away clan leaders on a mission from the Lord.

Where was that wealth, then, in this great empty house? It was suitably appointed, but the kitchen had never been used, and Frankenstein doubted this guest bedroom had ever held a guest.

But he mustn’t think too deeply, or he might wake up, he thought, licking that neck. No taste, but there wouldn’t have been regardless: nobles kept themselves too pristine for that. Not that he minded, knowing what he’d learned of the small creatures that preyed on humans and infected them, just like the nobles and vampires themselves.

So instead the lack of taste made him hum, pleased by that realization. It worked out nicely. This black hair would be just as clean as these sheets, hmm.

Instead of attacking him, or saying how impossible it was for the weak human to turn the tables on him, this simulacrum of Raizel seemed to be permitting this with a combination of mild confusion and interest, watching as Frankenstein did as he wished with no objection. Well, of course he could do as he liked, this was Frankenstein’s dream, but… Mmm, he thought, sliding between smooth thighs. He propped himself up on an elbow to look down at the noble. Time to hear what that voice might sound like, screaming his name.

He didn’t manage to get screams past that noble reserve, but he did coax out a few soft sighs and other pretty sounds from a handsome creature. Quite a nice dream, he thought, stretching (even though there had been no need for centuries) as he woke up a half-hour later.

Much better than the alternatives.

* * *

His dream Raizel grew more responsive as Frankenstein interacted with the noble more. Learning his little mannerisms, how to read him through that mask. His mind had settled on proportions for the body under those clothes, and now it was a matter of mapping the erogenous zones. Teaching the noble that warm breath on the side of his neck meant nice things.

Cadis Etrama di Raizel was a simple creature, despite how the clan leaders honored him. He liked what he liked. Sugar in his tea. A hand grasping a lean hip.

And when he liked something, he was not shy in indicating his desire for more.

The virginal noble struggling to hold on to his dignity in the face of human, hmm, _ingenuity_ was replaced by an eager creature who, having found a position he liked, requested it a dozen nights in a row before Frankenstein was able to insist on trying something else in the face of that adorable pout. Once that Raizel learned a handful of enjoyable positions, Frankenstein learned not to let him pick.

Raizel had sat there on the bed looking at Frankenstein’s bare body thoughtfully. Frankenstein could almost see the gears carefully turning.

It was ridiculously cute somehow, but he did have to warn Raizel that, “I only remain asleep for less than thirty minutes at a time.” So no, Raizel couldn’t spend as long a time picking out which of the positions he liked to use as he did picking out which shirt to wear.

Raizel’s eyes narrowed and he thought furiously, but he still wasn’t able to choose among nice things before Frankenstein woke up. Poor dream Raizel: quick decision-making wasn’t a skill he would have learned as an immortal noble who spent all his time staring out the window.

He hadn’t had wet dreams with this frequency since he was a teenager, but he couldn’t complain. They left him relaxed the way a good workout with Ragar and a cup of tea in Raizel’s room did. An afternoon in the kitchen cooking something that would be shared and enjoyed by more than just himself. A few days modifying this house, first to see if he would be able to get away with it, then to conceal his new lab, and then because…

Because this place, a noble’s manor in the land of the nobles was starting to feel like home. This bed was his bed. This noble was his noble, he thought, pouring Raizel a cup of tea he’d made despite not really feeling like tea himself right now because he brought Raizel tea every day and the noble might worry if Frankenstein neglected him.

It was nice, he admitted, smiling bitterly at his reflection in the silver pitcher, but it was also dangerous.

If he trusted, betrayal could do more damage. If he trusted, betrayal would hurt more. He needed to armor his heart as well as his mind.

So the next time he found Raizel looming over him in a dream looking predatory, he didn’t seize control over the dream but lay back and let it happen.

The teeth in his throat, the drive to violate his mind he’d felt too many times before he mastered keeping attackers out instead of merely driving them off, the knowledge that it was Raizel, or ‘Raizel’ at least, doing this to him, after all the kindness Frankenstein had shown him.

After all the kindness he had shown Frankenstein, in his own way. After all the nights they had spent together… It would remind him of the dangers of nobles.

Or that was what should have happened, not a kiss applying just enough force to make him melt and part his lips, because Raizel had learned the human’s body as Frankenstein learned his. Raizel’s clothes melted away after a moment, because the dream Raizel didn’t like having them mussed. Frankenstein quite liked the way he looked when thoroughly disheveled and debauched, so it was a pity he hadn’t attacked that elegant sooner.

Instead of pinning him, Raizel gracefully pulled Frankenstein on top of him, because he knew Frankenstein preferred to be on top (habit – a far better and less vulnerable position if attacked) and when Raizel’s mouth and teeth attacked his throat, when he bit, there were no fangs to break the skin, just a jolt of pleasure down Frankenstein’s spine. He was the one who had shown that to his Raizel.

Frankenstein chuckled and wrapping his arms around Raizel, rolled them over again. “I thought this was a vampire attack nightmare, but instead I find myself visited by an incubus.” He opened his eyes to see Raizel looking down at him and the mark on the side of his neck (he healed too quickly for such a mark to appear outside of dreams, if he ever dared sleep with anyone in reality when he had so many enemies). He watched Raizel bend down, carefully tilting Frankenstein’s head back after deciding that the aesthetics of the matter demanded additional marks.

* * *

When one of Dark Spear’s nightmares was interrupted by a displeased Raizel, Frankenstein probably should have wondered at that, but he was too glad to see red eyes glowing angrily, noble power stripping the dark hands away from Frankenstein’s skin as easily as it stripped the clothes from his body.

Too glad to find himself in familiar silk sheets again, Raizel watching him with concern in familiar red eyes. His host touching him with elegant precision and infinite care to bring him pleasure until the pain became only a memory.

He probably should have tried to vary it a little. Ragar was comely enough, and it would have been satisfying to encounter dream versions of certain clan leaders when he could control his dreams enough for them to beg him for it. Roctis had a solid build, it would have been a change from Raizel…

But he didn’t want a change.

* * *

It wasn’t as though it just struck him one day that he was being domestic.

He was perfectly well aware that he was being domestic, because _damn_ had he missed it. Just last week he had planted flowering bushes in the garden that wouldn’t grow enough for the planned arrangement for another three years. _Three years_. He was centuries old: being able to plan for three years in advance shouldn’t have felt like such a hedonistic luxury, but he had always liked schedules. Order. Some damn _control_ over his life and his environment.

After so much time on the run, he was quite shamelessly wallowing in this domesticity, making little changes to every room of the house because he could and they would still be there a month later. He would still be here a month later to enjoy the fruits of his labors.

All part of the plan. Not that he had expected that it would be so easy to become an accepted presence on Lukedonia – he’d thought he’d have to pass for a noble servant at minimum, instead of just a noble’s servant, but he wasn’t going to complain about having such an opportunity handed to him. Not when there were so many secondary advantages to it.

Oh, redoing the entry hall, putting little signs of his presence like new vases and fresh flower arrangements on new little tables did have an element of making the clan leaders aware that he was here, that a human had control over this space, but it was just so calming to be able to take in a deep breath and look around a room and nothing was dirty, everything was in excellent repair, positions were exact and elegant and everything was _exactly right_ , nothing to nag at him and bother him.

He would have to be careful investigating the clan leaders. Lull them into something of a false sense of security, let them think of him as just part of the furniture. Posing as Cadis Etrama di Raizel’s servant was a godsend for that purpose, he really was quite grateful. It was the least he could do to do a credible job of it. And Frankenstein demanded excellence of himself, in everything he set his mind to doing.

With that in mind, Cadis Etrama di Raizel required excessively little maintenance. The tea was Frankenstein’s idea, the dusting of the room where he stood must have been accomplished by noble abilities before Frankenstein started pointedly running a dustcloth over all the surfaces in there on a regular basis, and noble power also kept his clothing clean.

It left Frankenstein plenty of time for his own work – and thank goodness, because a house this size with a human master would require a massive staff and there were only so many hours in the day even for him. He didn’t want to hire a third person to come to the house when he had this much privacy.

His ‘habit’ of sitting there drinking tea while Master stared out the window was fabricated out of whole cloth so he had a reason to be in the room when the clan leaders visited, at least on some occasions. Why _should_ he leave the room, when they were the ones who had barged in without an invitation and intruded on a household gathering?

Normally Frankenstein was not fond of sitting still. There was far too much to do. A world in need of saving. He didn’t like to have nothing to do but think unless he was considering some theory or test, because aimless thoughts ended up in memory and self-recrimination. If only he had realized those people were evil sooner, if only…

Useless. There was nothing he could do but move forward with his plans to identify all the targets he had to eliminate and wipe them all from this world.

He’d started making sweets – there were fruit trees on the grounds, someone had attempted to make a garden for this place, some centuries ago – and planting and tending wheat and a few other things was a trivial amount of work with his powers. A hive of honeybees, and he found himself feeling quite self-sufficient. He could have done this before, found some valley in among remote mountains where the Union’s spies wouldn’t think to look, but he needed to bring home test subjects to his bases, he needed to remain in proximity to his targets. So he’d known that he would have to abandon his bases eventually, and planned for that instead.

The dainty little things he arranged on a plate for Raizel, ornamented with blackberries that shone like black pearls, weren’t frivolous. They were a sign of how long he planned to remain in Lukedonia, if anyone had the eyes to read that sign. They were proof of his intent to slay the noble criminals behind humanity’s suffering. No matter how long it took, he would never give up.

He remembered when Urokai Agvain had snatched a small oval sweet flavored with rosewater from the small plate next to Raizel’s tea. The idiot clan leader had announced before even tasting it that it couldn’t possibly be fit for Cadis Etrama di Raizel, and as he bit into it Frankenstein had to smile. Because no, he wasn’t planning to kill Cadis Etrama di Raizel. Urokai Agvain, he thought, watching the pastry go down that throat, that vulnerable neck, might very well be one of his targets, yes…  

So that was the warped version of domesticity he’d settled down in, the current front of a war he’d fought for centuries. If he hadn’t learned the importance of silence he might have hummed as he made long-stemmed glassware for Raizel’s unused table and test tubes for his lab. It wasn’t simply home and the pretense of peace that made him so content here. There was also, ‘ _Murder,’_ he thought, quite pleased with himself, as he rearranged the coals to improve the temperatures he had to work with.

It was only when he looked up and saw Ragar Kertia standing there silently, waiting for Frankenstein to give the noble his attention, that he realized he’d been laughing.

Well. That was a dangerous lapse. It didn’t sober him enough to strip the smile from his lips, however. “One moment: I need to put out the fire and put away the glasses – they’re very delicate.” Ragar nodded and stood there watching not him, but his equipment and what he’d made with it. So apparently this noble felt safe enough in the assumption that Frankenstein wouldn’t attack him without warning to indulge in idle curiosity instead of closely watching the ‘dangerous human criminal’ for an attack.

Excellent. Most of their clan leaders had their guards down around him because they assumed his humanity meant weakness. Ragar knew… a fair percentage of Frankenstein’s current strength, as much as it galled him to be reliant on one weapon and have to reveal so many of his tricks to a noble, even in the process of testing. Yet he still could be lulled into complacence.

Or maybe this was the unthinking trust of his peers that caused Ragar and the nobles like him to miss the criminals in their midst.

Either way, one day it was going to get Ragar stabbed in the back. If Frankenstein was a sentimental person, he might have pointed that weakness out to Ragar as thanks for the training… But all his current stock of sentimentality seemed taken up by Cadis Etrama di Raizel, and his current pet project of coaxing the noble into developing a palate.

Sweets Raizel would devour, every bit as eager as his delicate bites were graceful and slow, savoring every morsel, but alcohol was bitter and nasty. Hopefully having the right kind of glasses to serve it in would help, and the cellar he’d dug in close to his hidden lab to help camouflage the excavation and the entrances would cool the bottles to the optimal temperature. The way Raizel was so focused on what he ate, every little thing he did? If he enjoyed sugar and simple flavors this much, once he learned to appreciate a wider range of flavors, Frankenstein would have so much to show him. There was so much that Raizel could be filling his centuries with, there was so much _more_ to experience and enjoy than a window.

Domesticity, he thought, wrapping the glasses in cloth and packing them carefully in the basket on top of the already-finished and concealed test tubes and beakers. A house. Regular meals. Receiving callers. Cupboards full of spare lab equipment on hand instead of having to make only what he needed as he needed it. Putting new things in front of Cadis Etrama di Raizel and appreciating his reactions. Having someone to share his creations with, even if he wouldn’t show a noble his research.

He might even miss this place, when he succeeded in destroying the root of the Union here in Lukedonia and returned to the human world to deal with the flower. He might – no, he _would_ miss this peace, and the things he could let himself indulge in for the sake of pretending to be peaceful.

Frankenstein had never had a pet: they were messy, and he was in no position to be responsible for another living thing, a fragile one, when he was responsible for the world. He might have compared Raizel to one, if it were not for the fact that he was very attracted to Raizel and… Hmm. No, it shouldn’t be beastiality to sleep with a noble. They were thinking beings with souls.

If not a pet, a… a leman kept for love, not duty, to shower with gifts and affection, just in the hope of coaxing them to smile and lay with him?

Not that Raizel _had_ lain with him, although it would certainly drive Urokai and Gradeus beyond reason if Frankenstein managed to seduce him in reality. Perhaps it was the dreams that made him feel as though he and Raizel were intimate, the way the young and foolish might imagine spending decades growing old with a beloved and then rage at the loss of that fantasy when the match was impossible, impractical or unrequited.

Centuries. Not decades. Centuries. No, millennia: if nobles could reach that age, surely humans could be equally free of the ravages of time and the chains of fate.

Frankenstein knew he could not stay in Lukedonia forever, but once the damn Union would stay crushed, he could build a manor in the human world. Invite Raizel there – he would build him a window. A dozen windows, and a greenhouse.

Hmm, perhaps he should try to build a greenhouse attached to the manor and lure Raizel into it by telling him sweet strawberries grew there. If the issue was a reluctance to be outdoors, a greenhouse was still a house, with walls. He might be more comfortable there, and Frankenstein could set up a table and distract Raizel from any fear of being outside a sheltering roof with a set of sweets to choose from. A house made out of windows seemed like the quiet noble’s natural habitat.

Honestly, he was doting on Raizel as though the noble was his lover in truth.

Could he be… no, he thought, sealing up the outdoor half-kiln where he’d built the fire. He had such a perfect situation here, he couldn’t risk it by offending his host. “Sorry to keep you waiting so long,” he told Ragar, not sorry at all. It was a pleasure to have a clan leader wait on his schedule.

“You were thinking of Sir Cadis Etrama di Raizel,” Ragar said, nodding.

Frankenstein’s eyebrow rose. Yes, but how would _Ragar_ know that? Was he becoming that predictable?

Well. If so, excellent. He wanted them to think he’d forgotten his mission, was simply some noble’s servant now. If only he was a little better at pretending to be tame and obedient…

“The Lord is very impressive,” Ragar said, and his tone of voice, the way his eyes turned wistful and admiring… Did the clan leader have a _crush_?

It took one to know one, was that it? Could a man, even a noble in love recognize another man in love?

But this was _Ragar_.

And for that matter what if Frankenstein was in love? It changed nothing. He was able to admire not from afar, but under the same roof. He was satisfied with his current arrangement. More than satisfied.

“Ah,” sighed Ragar. “Truly, the Lord is wise…”

…Although he could do without the noble taking his silence as permission to talk about feelings. Damn, he had to listen, didn’t he. Valuable intelligence on the most powerful of the nobles. That was more important than his training session.  Even if the description made him bristle at a few points. “He cannot possibly be as elegant as Cadis Etrama di Raizel,” he found himself saying. Lord of the nobles… who cared about the Lord of the nobles? (Well, yes, Ragar, but _Ragar’s_ good opinion didn’t prove much.) He could not possibly be as quiet, and endearing, and definite…

Ragar smiled under his mask, and said that, “Sir Cadis Etrama di Raizel is exceedingly elegant. Is that why you hold him in such high regard?”

Such high regard?

He did. Why, he wondered. Why did he regard this noble as so important, he asked himself, and saw a back turned towards him, looking so lonely as the noble faced the window, exposing his back to the carrier of Dark Spear’s hatred (when Raizel could sense its presence), and was it out of innocence, had it not occurred to him that Frankenstein might attack, or was it because he had no regard for his life? That should have infuriated him, a noble throwing away an eternity when humans struggled to survive another day, but… it was not arrogance, Raizel took nothing for granted, and Frankenstein…

He loved him. He truly did. At least the version of Raizel that dwelled in his mind, a hybrid of quiet nobility and erotic fantasy.

Frankenstein chuckled. “I am grateful to him for letting me stay here, but shouldn’t we begin the spar? I’m certain you have duties to attend to.” Ragar was one of the nobles, like Gejutel, that seemed to actually pull their own weight.

Frankenstein wasn’t going to hold back in their practice battles – he couldn’t train himself to hold back in combat, now could he – but it might actually be something of a pity if he accidentally killed Ragar. He might have to look into that, he thought as Ragar nodded and towards their sparring grounds.

* * *

“ _A contract_ ,” he thought, returning from the Lord’s palace. “ _Could I actually form a contract with Raizel? But then he would be able to know my thoughts_ .” All the dreams where Frankenstein had taken just as thorough advantage of Raizel as he did of Raizel’s house.

And here came Urokai, almost as though he had the skill to get past Frankenstein’s mental barriers and see his illicit thoughts about Urokai’s crush. (In his dreams.)

* * *

“ _Frankenstein,”_ he heard, floating in the blackness, and that was enough to pull his mind closer to lucidity even before the word, “Awaken,” made him fling open his eyes to find himself floating in darkness, Raizel descending towards him.

This was a dream, they were definitely inside his mind, so force of habit made him wrap his arms around Raizel and look for a bed to fling him into. No bed, but they didn’t seem to need one. It was the unreality of floating here that made Frankenstein muse, “If only I could do this with you outside of my dreams.”

“If that is what you want,” Raizel said, patting his hair for a moment, sounding both intrigued and confused.

He laughed, pressing his face into that chest. “As though you’d say yes. It’s beneath your noble dignity to have sex with a human.”

“The Lord has often said that I should ‘get some’ sex, and offered to let me return to the human world seeking it,” Raizel said, and sighed the way he did over Urokai sometimes.

…Yes. Yes, he could see that, he thought, chuckling.

“You said that I could pick what type of sex we had,” Raizel reminded him, pressing his lips against Frankenstein’s hair.

Yes. Years ago.

Raizel was only making his choice now?

“I would like to have sex outside your dreams,” Raizel said, as though this was entirely his own decision and he wasn’t saying this because Frankenstein had wished they could.

That made him chuckle, because this was still a dream. Seeing Raizel frown, he said, “Yes, yes, all right,” indulgently, and reached up to tug him down for a kiss, trailing a hand down between pale thighs.

That was a mistake, he found when he opened his eyes to find that concerned individuals were watching over him, waiting for him to wake. Ragar’s cheeks were almost as red as his eyes.

Then he remembered what happened last night.

Ragar wouldn’t meet his eyes during the entire conversation. It could have been attributed to the noble’s evident embarrassment (and possible interest), but that wasn’t the only reason he had to be suspicious that something had happened to Raizel. Gejutel wasn’t prone to choosing his words that carefully. That old noble was too honest to lie, even by omission, without radiating discomfort.

* * *

He wanted to check on Raizel immediately, but Raizel was hurt last night. Frankenstein had hurt his host, under Dark Spear’s influence or not. He didn’t feel right going into Raizel’s room without some token of care, concern and intent to make it right if he could. With a human who was injured he could have examined them, tended their wounds, but a hurt noble would have already healed, surely.

Or so he thought until he saw blood drip down from Raizel’s lips.

Raizel assured him that it was nothing, wiping it away, and then he said, “Regarding what we previously discussed,” and Frankenstein’s mind drew a blank. What had they spoken about most recently? Before Frankenstein’s spar with Urokai, he had gone to speak to the Lord, after a spar with Ragar.

“Ah, the glassmaking?” he asked Raizel. “I was able to find adequate sand, yes.” It had given him an excuse to travel around Lukedonia.

Raizel shook his head, standing. He walked over to Frankenstein.

“Sir Raizel, if I said anything under Dark Spear’s influence,” he began to say, but Raizel shook his head again slightly.

Then he reached up to place his hand at the back of Frankenstein’s head and pulled him into a kiss.

Being kissed by Raizel as the light fell on them through Raizel’s window: it was second nature to sweep Raizel up off his feet and lay him down on that couch. Raizel always opened his mouth briefly to draw breath when he was lifted, perhaps in surprise, perhaps made breathless by it, and Frankenstein pounced on that opportunity to slip that tongue past those lips and Raizel’s fingers had already begun divesting him of his jacket before Frankenstein checked the dream and _this wasn’t a dream_.

The taste, the feel, Raizel’s responses: everything was just like his dreams, but this was reality. How could it be reality? He had imposed his will on his dreams to summon Raizel in the house of a noble with extraordinary powers.

Had he taken it for an invitation? When Frankenstein had wanted him there, or at least the Raizel of his dreams. The Raizel…

Blood.

 _He could taste blood in Raizel’s mouth_.

“You shouldn’t exert yourself,” he said worriedly, prying himself free from the kiss with some difficulty. His eyes scanned what he could see of Raizel: his eyes, his bared chest. Everything looked normal, but _something was wrong with Raizel_ , and Frankenstein was certain it was because of him. Because he’d lost control last night. Because Tesamu…

He couldn’t save his student. He’d tried, and he’d failed long ago, it seemed. But Raizel, his Raizel wasn’t dead yet.

 _He wouldn’t let him die_.

Raizel frowned. “This will not tire me.” Obviously not.

This noble wouldn’t lie, and Frankenstein didn’t want to insult him by implying he would, but, “You are certain?” he had to ask, letting his concern show in his eyes. He wanted to make it clear that he was asking for the sake of reassurance, not because he was calling Raizel’s word into question.

Raizel nodded, reaching up to brush Frankenstein's hair away from his face. "It is not illness. Do not trouble yourself, when the only cure I need is rest."

For a human, that would mean Raizel should avoid physical exertion as well as the exercise of his powers, but for a noble, “I suppose bed rest is in order, then,” he said, smiling, and firmly intending to shake down the Lord for more information the next time he left Raizel’s bed. If he was willing to offer a blood sample, then he must know something of noble medicine, and in hindsight?

Frankenstein had a very strong suspicion of the reason the Lord had allowed _a doctor who studied nobles and their powers_ to remain in the house of a noble who was injured by the use of his powers.

‘ _Take good care of my Raizel for me,’_ the Lord had said?

Yes, he thought, lifting Raizel up again and asking, “Your bed or mine?” He was going to take _very_ good care of him.

“I do not have a bed.”

“Mine, then,” Frankenstein said, smiling. _‘Yes,’_ he thought. _‘Mine.’_

**Author's Note:**

> In Noblesse's universe, nobles would be the reason that humans believe that beings of incredible power in human form that grant miracles are a thing, the origin of the concept of 'god.' The sale of contracts in Europe that led to the mutants that Frankenstein fought would be the origin of the deal with the devil myths, and Christianity engaged in demonization, incorporating the gods of other religions into their mythology as demons and devils (sometimes saints, true). So calling Rai an incubus here would be, 'Well, you're not wrong...'


End file.
